Katie Cruel
by 50ftQueenie
Summary: In the winter of 1966, I was eighteen and Two-Bit was nineteen. I could drink legally, but he couldn't; not that it stopped him. Oklahoma liquor laws were so complex that most bar owners disregarded them. The one law they couldn't ignore, though, was the one that said bars had to close at ten o'clock and on Sundays. That's when people like Buck Merrill stepped up to fill the void.
1. Chapter 1

SE Hinton owns Kathy and The Outsiders. The song "Katie Cruel" is an American traditional recorded by Karen Dalton.

This is part three in a series. It follows "Every Mother's Son" and "Sister Golden Hair', and I don't know how much sense it makes if you haven't read those.

**Katie Cruel- One**

_I know who I love, and I know who does love me  
I know where I'm going, and I know who's going with me…_

When I stepped into the dimly-lit club from the bright sun outside, I had so many things flying around in my head I didn't know if it was my racing thoughts or my eyes trying to adjust to the light that made me dizzy. I felt my body sway as the door shut behind me. I reached out to grab what I thought was the back of a chair. It moved.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry," I said to the human form that developed before me. "I thought you were a chair."

"Well," he said. "I guess I've been called worse. There something I can help you with. You alright, doll?"

I was about a blue million miles from alright. I had barely slept since my brother died. My father came home to orchestrate the funeral. He wouldn't let me see Cal's body when the coroner released it, and every night since then I woke up from dreams where I saw him everywhere. Nothing ever happened in the dreams- usually I was just walking in a crowd of people and one of them would turn or walk past me, and it would be him. It was getting so I expected to see him on the street when I was awake.

My father had been off the job for two weeks. He had another week until the road crew swung through town and picked him up again. He had called my mother to tell her about Calvin. When she didn't show for the funeral, he started pining for her. He got more and more quiet and dreamy hanging around the house. He'd been this way when she first left and I couldn't stand it. I didn't need a quiet, sad man around the house who needed taking care of but didn't want me to do the taking care.

I started going out more with Two-Bit.

In the early winter of 1966, I was eighteen and Two-Bit was nineteen. I could drink legally, but he couldn't; not that it stopped him. Oklahoma liquor laws were so complex that most bar owners disregarded them. The one law they couldn't ignore, though, was the one that said they had to close at ten o'clock and on Sundays.

That's when people like Buck Merrill stepped up to fill the void.

When most people hear the words "night club", I'm sure it brings Las Vegas to mind: a place with flashing lights and dancers in feathers. Buck Merrill's place had neither. Sometimes people danced in the flickering glow of the Miller sign in Buck's front window. Sometimes- so I'd heard- they danced their way upstairs to the three or four rooms that Buck kept sparsely furnished and for rent by the hour or the night. There were no dancers on the payroll. Just Buck and a couple of girls serving beer and providing glasses for the bottles of hard liquor the customers brought in.

Two or three nights ago, while out cruising the Tulsa night clubs with Two-Bit, I'd decided I wanted in on the nightclub racket. I had spotted the boys from Carter Burr's gang at Buck's before Two-Bit had. When he did, he suggested we leave. He reminded me that Carter knew me.

"There's three of them and only one of Two-Bit," he'd said.

"There's one of me, too," I'd replied. "That almost evens the field."

I'd winked at him to let him know I wasn't serious. I wasn't serious at that moment. I knew I needed time to think about what I was going to do to settle the score between me and Carter. I thought about it in the car on the way home and all the next day. The conclusion I came to was that I needed a job.

"I'm looking for a job," I said to the man sitting before me in the chair.

My eyes had adjusted to the lack of light and I could see him now. He was eyeing me thoughtfully. I could see him running his tongue back and forth in his mouth over the spot where he two front teeth had once been. I would come to know this as his thoughtful look. There was nothing salacious or scheming behind it like you might expect from an illegal nightclub owner who was looking you over and running his tongue over his gums. He just did it without thinking about it while the wheels in his head turned.

"I don't need a waitress," he said.

"I can clean," I told him.

Buck Merrill grinned his toothless grin. "What're you implying?"

I shrugged and smiled back, meeting his eyes with mine. No one had ever cleaned anything at Buck's before and we both knew it. He mulled it over his head whether or not it was time to start.

"How old're you?" He asked. Even in the morning his words slurred together, either from an old head injury or a recent drunk.

I told him I was eighteen.

"I seen you in here the other night," He said. "You're Reilly's sister, ain't you?"

I nodded.

He offered me his hand then, and I shook it.

"My condolenscences," he said. "Calvin could raise some hell."

This was true. I nodded again.

Buck withdrew his hand, ran his fingers through his hair, and stood up stretching. He spoke as he walked away from me and towards the make-shift bar:

"Well, I ain't got anything waiting tables and I don't see you as bouncer material, you know? Can you drive?"

"Yeah, I don't have a car though."

"I got a car," he said. "You'd have to drive the truck. I need someone to pick up beer for me, and other things- occasionally."

The way he said "other things" I got the feeling he was testing me. Would I be too eager or suspicious or would I just be able to roll with the ambiguity? I decided to roll with it.

I nodded and shrugged first, and then I answered him, "I can do that."

"I heard about you," he told me. "I don't need no trouble in here. Two-Bit- he's your old man? He ain't any trouble. Just likes to run his mouth. Tim Shepard, he's no problem either. He'd like to think he is, but he ain't. Guys like your brother, though- one step up…or down…on the ladder- I don't need any of that shit."

I looked at Buck and said nothing. I waited for him to describe exactly what the shit was that he didn't need. I halfway hoped he'd put some ideas in my head.

All he said was, "Don't spit in no one's drinks."

Then he winked at me, and I was hired.

* * *

The bullet that hit Tim Shepard found its way into his hipbone and thus- to the disappointment of Deputy Marshal Ayers- ended any possibility of a military career for Tim.

Deputy Ayers told me this, rolling his eyes, when I went to visit Tim in the hospital. The Marshall had apparently drawn a low card that afternoon and was stuck guarding Tim in his room. To the casual observer, the two of them seemed to get along fine. Ayers had moved his chair into the room with Tim so that they could watch football on a small television that I learned later Ayers had requested.

Ayers was a Razorbacks man, of course. Tim- although he had no allegiance to the Sooners at the time and no inkling that he someday would- took up for Oklahoma out of state pride or because they were kicking the hell out of Arkansas when I got there.

"That ref's blind," Ayers was grumbling.

"Blinded by the brilliance of that play maybe," Tim replied. He winked when he say me standing in the door. "What's good on the outside, Reilly?"

The agent stood up and offered me his chair. I shook my head. Tim patted the spot next to him on the bed, knowing full-well I'd flip him off.

"It's cold outside," I told them.

"I could've told you that," Tim said. "I'm going to be one of those guys who can feel when the barometer's going to drop by the aching in my bones."

"Add that to your list of many talents," I said. I changed the subject. "My dad's still home. He ran Curly off, and I haven't seen him."

Deputy Ayers kept his eyes trained on the football game, but I could tell he was listening. Tim fidgeted.

He said, "He's around. My ma ain't being crying around about the truant officers, so I'd guess he's even going to school."

"Carter wouldn't go after Curly, would he?" I asked Deputy Ayers. "If he couldn't get to Tim?"

"Carter doesn't give a damn about Curly. Or Tim. Tim just got in his way. You, on the other hand-" Now he looked away from the game. He was frowning at me and it made him look older than he was. "I wish you'd try laying a little bit lower."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Ayers grinned and looked back at the TV.

"The other night, you were out and about with your little boyfriend." He smirked when he said it. It told me he didn't think much of Two-Bit. "My detail two nights ago was much more exciting than the one I got today. Frankly, I'd rather sit on my behind and watch football with this punk. No disrespect…"

"None taken," Tim said.

Ayers continued, "I know you crossed paths with Carter's boys, Kathy. I can't tell you what to do- for now- but choose a different bar, would you?"

I nodded and pretended to take his words to heart. I wondered if Buck had spotted Ayers- if that was the kind of trouble he was warning me not to bring around.

"I don't know whether I should be flattered or disturbed," I said. "Knowing that you're trailing me."

"Be disturbed," Tim said.

"You can be whichever you want," Ayers said. "Just try and keep in mind the reason I'm here, will you? Both of you?"

Tim shrugged. Arkansas fumbled and Oklahoma picked up the ball and ran with it. Tim cackled. I told he and Ayers that I'd let them get back to their game. Ayers frowned, although he was already back looking at the TV. I suspect he knew already that I was going to find Curly.


	2. Chapter 2

SE Hinton owns them.

**Katie Cruel- Two**

I loved my father- more than anyone else in the world probably- but I didn't much like the way he looked at me anymore. That was probably my fault. He looked sad when he looked at me like he thought he had failed.

We ate our dinner in near-silence that evening and then he went to the next room to watch TV. I cleared the table and washed the dishes. When I'd finished, I headed towards my room to read a book, but my dad cleared his throat at me and I stopped. I popped my head into the living room.

"You want a beer or something?" I asked. "I was just going to go read."

He shook his head. My father was a small man- Calvin must've got his height from our mother's side- and he seemed smaller since Calvin's death. He was nothing but muscle underneath his white undershirt, but he had developed a cough from smoking rolled cigarettes and breathing fumes out on the bridges he painted.

He set his paper down and beckoned me with a reluctant look on his face. Part of the reason we got on so well, my dad and I, was that he generally didn't like to delve into what he considered "women's business". He just left me to it. When he had to make that leap, it made him nervous.

I sat down on the arm of a chair.

"There's been a lot of strange boys around here when I'm gone, ain't there?" He said.

I managed a smile. "You know Two-Bit, Daddy. I know he's strange, but he's not a stranger."

"Not him. I was thinking more of the one who croaked in the basement, and then that little squirrelly one…"

"Curly? He's just a kid. He's a friend of mine's little brother. I was just looking out for him."

My father shook his head. "That's too many boys, Kathy. Mrs. Donovan gave me an earful after Cal's…" he couldn't bring himself to say the word 'funeral'. "…after Cal's event. I know you're a good girl, Kathy, but you got to keep up appearances. Just 'cause you know and I know you're a good girl don't mean you can go doing whatever you want for the whole world to see. People get strange ideas about things they don't understand."

I pressed my lips together and held back everything flying through my head to say about Mrs. Donovan across the street. Cal and I had broken into her house once or twice when we were kids. We had hoped that an old single lady might have some cookies or candy lying around, but there was nothing but bottles as far as the eye could see.

"I got a job," I told my father. "Just today. I'll be gone during the day and she won't have to question how I'm bringing in money anymore."

My father smirked. "When Two-Bit stays over, tell him to come in the back."

I nodded and went to my room. I thought about calling the Tim and Curly's house when I passed the phone, but then I remembered that their mother's last name wasn't Shepard anymore. I didn't know their stepdad's name. If I wanted to make contact with Curly, it was going to have to wait until daylight.

* * *

"Well, there she is- my Angel of the Morning," Buck said. Merrilee Rush was playing on the jukebox. I'm sure he wouldn't have thought to call me that all by himself.

"Good morning," I said. I walked up to the bar and set my purse on it. "Ready for my orders."

"Says you," he said with a smile. He finished what he was doing behind his half-assed bar- moving olives from one jar into another. Then he turned and took a metal box labeled "First Aid" down on the wall. He set it in front of me on the bar and opens it.

If there was ever a medical emergency at Bucks, we were probably all screwed. It's not like we could call the police or an ambulance. We weren't supposed to be there- any of us. That Buck kept a first aid kit on the wall was the last hope we had that any kind of cuts, scrapes, or gunshot wounds could be handled without the risk of bringing down the law. Buck dashed that hope out in me when opened the first aid kit. It contained several tight rolls of bills- I couldn't begin to guess how much- and a ledger book.

Buck took the book out and handed it to me.

"Here's your orders," he said. "Let's see what you know and who you know."

I opened the book and leafed through the first few pages. There was a name- just a first name- at the top of each page, and then lists below of it of dates, more peculiar names and phrases, and dollar amounts.

"I'm running numbers," I said.

"_I'm_ running numbers," Buck told me. "You're just writing them down."

The names at the tops of the pages were the names of bettors. The names in the lists were horses. A single pencil line through a bet meant that the money had been dispersed or collected. I guessed it wasn't me who would be collecting.

"You can try it. Some of them are a little reluctant. If that happens, you come back and tell me. I'll send someone else. Won't be able to pay you for that collection, though."

I nodded. I hadn't yet asked him what he would be paying me. Now I realized I would be making a cut.

"As you can see," Buck said, "It would be pretty easy for you to cheat me. I mean, you're writing down the bets, bringing 'em back to me. You could write down a lower bet than was made, keep something for yourself. Yeah…don't do that. I know it can be done. I highly recommend you don't do that."

I smiled at him. I nodded again. Buck didn't scare me in the least, but I didn't doubt that he could turn whoever it was he sent to collect on reluctant bettors on me too.

"I'll need you here at nine. Basically, you go out in the morning, collect, write down the bets for the day, bring the book and money back to me. I cut you loose until the next day. You read the paper?"

"Yeah."

"Good. Keep an eye on what happens at the track. You'll learn- some of these guys'll try to disappear on you if they've lost. It's good to keep tabs on them and try to collect before they make a break for it."

He pushed his book at me, told me to study it. He expected that I recognized the names in it, and that I would know where to find them. He must have figured it came with the territory of being Calvin Reilly's sister. When I did get a chance to sit down and look at the names, I realized quickly that he was right.

* * *

When I finished reading through Buck's bet book, I left the bar and headed around the corner to the nearest phonebooth.

The attendance clerk at Will Rogers High School complimented me on my mother's intuition. She thought she was complimenting Tim and Curly's mom- who I claimed to be when she asked. There might have been just slight jab of mockery in her tone.

"You must be out," she said. "We just tried to call your house. Your son has been sent home for the day."

Down the street, church bells rang the top of the hour.

I told the attendance clerk, "Yes, I was at church. Why is he being sent home?"

The clerk didn't know. She said that Curly had been having a rough week and wondered if there was anything going on at home. I told her he was probably just worried about his brother.

"Did something happen to his brother?" She asked.

The news of Tim being shot wasn't even news outside of the confines of the Shepard home and our circle of friends. A guy like Tim from our side of town could have burst into flames and most of Tulsa wouldn't care.

"He's been sick," I told the clerk. "Is someone bringing Curly home? Do I need to pick him up?"

"He's long gone, actually. Stormed off on his own before we could tell him to leave. When he gets home, tell him he isn't to come back tomorrow either. We'll set up a meeting and notify you. We can discuss the conditions of his return then."

I thanked her. I don't know why. I hung up the phone without saying goodbye. I stood in the phone booth trying to think of places where Curly might go when he was pissed. I ran the options over in my mind: Benny's, that vacant lot up by Sodapop and Steve's where they had their rumbles, the DX to bother Soda.

I guess the attendance clerk was right about my mother's intuition: in the end, I didn't have to go looking. Curly walked right by the phone booth, and I just had to put my foot out and trip him.

"You little shit, I've been looking for you."

He picked himself up off the sidewalk and grinned. "Success. You get a gold star, Reilly."

"I was worried about you."

That idea seemed to please him, until I told him I'd called the school.

"You called the school? Shit, what'd they tell you?"

"That whatever you did, it's going to take a hearing to get you back in. I know how that plays out, Curly. You're not safe out here roaming around. You'd make a nice consolation prize for the guy who wanted to do Tim in."

Curly did not appreciate being relegated to consolation prize. He folded his arms across his chest and glared down at me. I could swear he'd grown an inch since I'd last seen him.

"So, what's your plan then?" He asked.

"I don't have a plan. I'm not your mother. I think you should go home."

He shook his head. "No way, Reilly. My stepdad'll be lying in wait to beat my ass if I go home. When's your dad leaving town?"

"Next week," I told him. I frowned. Two-Bit would be none-too-pleased if Curly came back to reign over the sofa once again, but- to be honest- I kind of enjoyed having him around. I didn't exactly feel safer with Curly in the house, but he made for good conversation and he was just inept enough at life that he made me feel useful in a parental sort of way.

"Can we get something to eat?" Curly asked. "They didn't wait until after lunch to toss me out."

I relented and nodded. Against my better judgment, I told him about my job.

"Anything to spend a little extra time with Tim, huh?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" I asked.

"Tim works for Buck, too. Who do you think gets sent in to enforce the pay-up when they don't pay up willingly? Tim and a couple of other guys from the gang are Buck's muscle. Dally used to do it, too. One of these days, he's going to let me have a go."

I rolled my eyes. I didn't figure I was in any position to be chiding Curly on how that was nothing to be aspiring to.

"Jesus," Curly kept right on talking. "Tim'll be pissed at Buck when he finds out. It ain't hardly any kind of job for a girl to be doing. What'd Two-Bit say?"

"Not a damned thing, and he won't have anything to say so long as you keep your mouth shut, Curly."

Curly laughed out loud. "Yeah, I can about predict how that's going to play out. Tim won't say a word to you. He'll let on to Two-Bit, though, and let him take care of it."

"What makes you think Two-Bit has that kind of pull with me? He doesn't tell me where I can and can't work."

"Come on, Kathy, if you were Two-Bit would you want your old lady running numbers for Buck?"

I cringed at the 'old lady' moniker. "God, Curly- _old lady_? We're not bikers."

"I'm just saying- Tim's going to narc you out, and when he does, Two-Bit's going to have something to say."

"Well, maybe Tim won't ever need to find out," I said.

"Sure. You think all of them guys are just going to happily pay up and you're never going to need Tim to come shake them down?"

"Maybe not. Maybe I'll use my feminine charms."

I winked and Curly looked a little ill.

"Maybe you should take out some insurance," he said. We had reached a diner and he held the door open for me. I looked back at him and scowled. He explained: "Not like I'm going to be doing anything with my days from here on out. Take me with you. If someone gets disagreeable, I'll make sure you don't have to call in Tim, and then Tim'll never know to rat you out to Two-Bit."

"You little smart ass, I suppose that if I don't agree to this, you're going to run straight down to the hospital and tell Tim yourself."

"Right after I get my lunch," Curly said, grinning.

We sat down on opposite sides of a booth and spent our lunch arguing about the role of women in the workplace. I got the sense that, for the most part, Curly agreed with my more modern ideals and that he was only arguing to yank my chain. When I got home at dinner time that evening, neither Two-Bit nor my father knew anything about my new job. Curly was either just liberated enough or just curious enough to keep his mouth shut.


	3. Chapter 3

SE Hinton owns The Outsiders and Kathy.

**Katie Cruel- Three**

It would about figure: one of the first stops on my list of bettors was one of my own uncles. He wasn't an immediate uncle; he was a cousin of my mother's and I hadn't seen much of him since she'd left. Still, he recognized me when he opened the door of his cold water walk-up apartment and found me standing there.

"Kit Kat," he said and then got concerned. "What's wrong? What's happened to Jay?"

The only reason he could imagine me being there was if something had happened to my father.

"He's home, Uncle Andy. He's cool. I'm here on…Buck Merrill sent me."

My Uncle Andy's reaction to that was less than encouraging. He stifled a laugh and then scratched the back of his head. He took a step back and let me in.

His apartment was a single room with a bathroom up a flight of stairs behind a Laundromat. The smell of fabric softener was overpowering, although that probably wasn't a bad thing. I knew what old men's apartments tended to smell like otherwise.

The room was almost bare save for a simple wooden cross over the bed. There was a bank calendar pinned to the wall next to the door. None of the days were marked with anything important.

"You want a cup of coffee, girl?" He asked me.

I shook my head. Uncle Andy being my first stop was either very good or very bad. He might go easy on me, might be willing to take the lead in the conversation so that I'd be in a better position with the next customer. Or- being he was my mother's relative- he might try to play me like the addict I suspected he was.

I decided to test him:

"So, how does this go exactly?"

"Right down to business, are you? That's good. You don't take no shit, you hear, Kathy? I mean, you won't get none from me, but some of these guys…" He scowled and shook his head. "You don't go in no one else's place, you hear? You stay at the door with them other guys."

I smiled and nodded. I took a tablet out of my jacket pocket. I had decided it was safest not to bring Buck's own bet book. If the names were recognizable enough to me, then they would be to anyone who might attempt to take it from me as well. I left the book under the front seat of Buck's T-Bird next to the nine millimeter he seemed to have forgotten was there.

My Uncle Andy stood watching me. He stayed silent until I promised him that I wouldn't go in anyone else's place. Then he spread the morning paper out on his kitchen table and pointed out two races.

"Twenty on each of them two," he said. "You know anything about the spread?"

I shook my head. I hadn't had a chance to look at the paper yet.

"Would you tell me if you did?" He asked, and cackled out a laugh when I didn't answer. He laughed until he had to go spit in the sink. "That's my girl. You know when we was young- before your mother took to drinking- she and I used to play cards. Taught me how to play poker, and I never could beat her. You seen your ma?"

"No, sir. My dad called her when Cal died, but she…I never saw her."

"Shit," Uncle Andy said and spit in the sink again. "She ain't no kind of mother. I don't know what happened. She wasn't always like that, not until she took to drinking…"

I nodded. I didn't remember my mother before she drank. I only knew her as unreliable and angry.

"I got to go, Uncle," I said.

He nodded. He followed me to the door and implored me again not to go into any other dwellings.

"I'll see you on Thursday, Kit-Kat," he told me at the door. "Win or lose, I'll be here."

"Don't make me shake you down," I said and winked at him.

I got to leave my first customer, at least, feeling like maybe he was doing this for fun.

* * *

The rest of the day didn't go like that. Buck's other clients were in deep with him. A couple of them seemed to consider my being sent an offense. I wondered what they'd think when I brought along my fifteen-year old enforcer.

I told Curly he was going to sit the first day out. He asked for my suggestions where he should sit it out at. His house and Tim's hospital room were not options. In the end, I don't know where he went. Perhaps he slept in the library like I suspect Two-Bit did when he didn't go to school.

I was disappointed when none of the bettors seemed to be associates of Carter Burr. I was relieved that none of them was Carter himself, but I had hoped for some kind of tip-off as to where he spent his days hanging out. I didn't even need to venture into River King territory to find any of Buck's clients. Maybe they had their own bookie.

I returned to Buck's just after noon. He was sitting at his bar eating a sandwich. I felt myself cringe; I couldn't help but think of what that bread must feel like against his bare gums.

"How'd it go?" He asked me.

"Alright. Got to see a long-lost uncle."

Buck grinned and I wished he wouldn't. "That happens. Hell, it was my uncle who got me into this racket in the first place. Which one's your uncle?"

I told him and he nodded.

"Neat old guy. He won't give you any trouble. He's pretty conservative with his dough. Can't say I cherish him as a customer. Not like I ever make any money off of him."

I smiled and nodded. To me, that was comforting.

Buck said, "You want to do some work on the level this afternoon? Guy who drives for me is doing a couple of nights in County. You want to drive to Coffeyville and pick up some booze?"

I shrugged. It didn't sound like high adventure, but it was something to do for the rest of the day.

My lack of enthusiasm amused Buck.

"Shit goes down in Coffeyville, miss. Don't let the backcountry visage fool you. You want to go or don't you?"

I told him I'd go. I still wasn't convinced. I knew what he was referring to- there was a bank robbery in Coffeyville years ago during the Great Depression. People still remembered it, but probably because it was the only thing to ever happen there. Robberies went down in Tulsa all the time.

Buck fronted me money for gas and lunch and told me where to meet the guy with the liquor. Turns out, I wasn't even going all the way into to the town of Coffeyville; I was to meet this guy on a bridge just outside of town. I liked that idea. It seemed more like something out of a movie.

I listened to the radio loud all the way up there. Buck said I had an hour to get to the bridge. He'd call the bootlegger when I left and let him know I was coming. The man was waiting there for me when I arrived. He was probably as old as my father, polite, and seemed amused that Buck had sent a girl to do a man's job.

"I'd have brought the boys if I'd known I was going to have to lift this stuff myself," he said, picking up a crate to carry to Buck's car.

"I can lift," I told him. He shrugged and nodded to the back of his truck. I helped him carry the rest of the load. We covered up the jars in the back seat with a blanket. I paid him and he tipped his hat to me, calling me "ma'am".

All the way back to Tulsa, the jars clinked together in the backseat. The sound bugged me. It was a pretty sound- like chimes- but it reminded me that all day it seemed I'd been dismissed as such. I'd gotten the jobs done, hadn't I? Yet, every man I encountered seemed to look upon me as a novelty. I don't know why I'd expected any different, but it pissed me off all the same.

I had an hour to stew on it on the ride back to Buck's. He frowned at me when I delivered his crates of bootleg liquor and his car keys to the bar. He asked if I was coming back tomorrow. I said, "Yeah".

"Tomorrow'll be a pisser," he said, like he was making a promise. "You got to go back and collect on all them bets you set up today."

"I'll be here," I said and managed a smile. I wondered if tomorrow I should bother to bring Curly, or if I should just amp up my "girl" look a little more, smile like a dumbie, and let them all pat me on the head when they turned over the cash. I told Buck to have a good night, and headed for the door.

A familiar voice and a tug at my elbow stopped me midway across the room.

"Kathy?"

I turned. I don't know if it was fear of being caught or that old high school crushing feeling that made my heart catch in my throat. Once upon a time, me and all of my high school girlfriends would cower and swoon when Darry Curtis walked past us in the halls. Now, since the death of his parents, he and I had ceased to exist in the same world. He'd disappeared from the scene almost as if he was dead himself.

Damn, I still loved those green eyes and that black hair, though. I couldn't even find it within me to be irritated that he was grinning at me in a 'you're busted' kind of way. God only knows what he thought he was busting me for. I didn't care; he could grin all he wanted.

"Hey, Darry," I said- like I knew him or something.

"Two-Bit here?"

I shook my head. _So busted._ "Not that I know of. It's a little early, even for Two-Bit."

Darry nodded. When he ducked his eyes to avoid mine just for a second, I realized that I had him busted too. It was just past a quarter to five: Darry was clocked out for the day, but he hadn't quite made it home yet. There was an empty beer bottle on the table in front of him and no one sharing his table.

"Actually, maybe it's getting a little late," he said. "I ought to be going. Tell Two-Bit I said hey."

He stood up and patted me on the shoulder. The weight of his touch was almost enough to drive me through the floor.

I nodded and waited for him to leave. Then I waited another couple of minutes to be sure he had been swallowed up in traffic. Turns out, I could hustle old drunks into laying bets and giving me their money, but I couldn't out-clever Darry Curtis.

When I opened the door and stepped out on to the sidewalk, he was there leaning against the side of his truck. He grinned when he saw me.

"I don't make a habit of hanging out there," he said.

"Me neither." I shrugged and batted my lashes.

"You're not waiting for Two-Bit?"

I shook my head.

Darry nodded. He stepped away from his truck and opened the passenger door for me.

"How about I give you a ride home?"

I rolled my eyes like a guilty teenager and he laughed at me like a knowing older brother. I hopped up in to his truck and Darry got in behind the wheel.

"It would figure," he said. "It's not that big of a town. I go out one time and have one beer and I run into my buddy's girlfriend."

"I ain't going to tell on you, Darry. You're an adult," I said, hoping he planned of afford me the same courtesy.

Darry nodded. "So what have you been doing these days, when you aren't hanging out in Buck's? Oh, God, that's right. I'm sorry about Cal."

"Yeah. I guess it's not quite real to me yet. I mean, he was in prison anyway. It's not like he was home every day. I guess I'm still not convinced he won't be home someday." I don't know why I spilled all that, but then replied almost like he was waiting for someone else to say it first:

"I know what you mean. It takes a while. Sometimes, it still sneaks up on me. Something'll happen at work and I can't wait to tell my old man. And what I wouldn't give to have my mom around to deal with Pony's mouth. My God, that kid…"

He trailed off. I turned in the seat to look at him. He was hunched over the steering wheel, still on edge. Maybe he was always like that nowadays. In high school, I remembered his every movement was graceful. He seemed to breeze on by when he went down the hall.

Darry shook his head and grinned. "We're trying this thing- me and Soda. It's my night off. Soda's convinced that I need time away from them- that I need to have my life back. Soda thinks he's Carl Jung or something. He gave me the night off- him and Pony. I'm not allowed to go home until eight. I have no idea what to do with myself. Not much of a drinker anymore."

"Did you eat yet?" It just sort of slipped out. Maybe it came from spending too much time with Curly Shepard. The urge to mother over Darry was uncontrollable.

He shook his head. "No. Maybe that was my mistake. I shoulda ate first, drank second. You aren't waiting on Two-Bit? You want to get something to eat?"

When I was sixteen and in high school, I swear I and half the girls I knew had dreams about this happening. We built games of truth-or-dare around this scenario: what if the hottest guy you knew- _what if the hottest but still most accessible greaser guy like Darry Curtis that you knew_- dropped out of the sky and asked you if you wanted to catch a bite? What did you do?

I'd played this game in my head a million times. Of course I knew the answer. I told him, "sure".


	4. Chapter 4

SE Hinton owns The Outsiders.

**Katie Cruel- Four**

"So Ponyboy's giving you a run for your money?"

Once Darry and I got ourselves to a Chinese Restaurant and into a booth and got our food ordered, I didn't know what else to talk about. We were both done with high school. I didn't want to talk about his parents and my brother anymore. If we talked about his work, it might lead to talking about mine. He'd been the one to bring up Ponyboy. I figured I'd run with it.

Darry rolled his eyes and shook his head at the little cup of tea they'd given him. It was one of those cups with no handle- more like a bowl- with red and gold dragons painted on the side. In Darry's hands, it looked like a child's tea set. He poured sugar in and swirled the cup around.

"I wish I'd paid more attention when Soda was that age. I'm sure he was just as mouthy. Hell, I'm sure I was too. I wish I could remember why I thought I was so justified."

I had an answer to that: "Because he just wants what you have. He's in a rough spot- he's smart as hell, right?"

"He's book smart, yeah."

"Yeah, so I get that he's not really mature, but he's smart enough to analyze everything. He just can't think on his feet."

"Yeah, no lie. You know Curly Shepard, right?"

I grinned. Curly was like the polar opposite of Ponyboy- not book smart at all, but street smart beyond his years.

"Two nights ago, Pony brings Curly home like he's found a puppy and wants to know if we can keep it. Sorry, little man, but we got bills and Curly has parents. I get that it ain't fair that Curly's home ain't so rosy, but think about it…who does that all fall back on? Never occurs to him. Then I get the cold shoulder when I won't let Curly stay forever and ever. I let him stay for dinner, but then he had to go home. And then I made the big mistake…every time I try to loosen up a little, it's a mistake. You'd think I'd know by now."

"What'd you do?"

"I told Pony to walk Curly home, you know, just to get him out of our neighborhood. You can about guess where that went."

"When did he come home?"

Darry nodded. "A little past midnight. God, and there was a fire down the block and when I heard those sirens…I can't explain it. Sirens just do something to me."

He could explain, I figured, if he wanted to. I knew what he was getting at, but explaining full-out would be admitting that the sound of sirens terrified Darry. As caught up as he was in his rant, Darry wasn't about to admit that anything scared him like that.

"Thing is," he continued, "there I was sitting in the dark with my beer at Buck's feeling guilty as hell over having a beer because that's sixty cents I could've put towards feeding Curly for one more night. Ponyboy'll never know that. He doesn't think I give a damn- and I don't, not in the way he does. With him, it's all feeling. I had it broke down to a science. Man, I was breaking down those sixty cents in my head: Curly could've stayed for breakfast and ate two eggs and a slice of toast and we could've washed his clothes for what I just shelled out for that beer. He doesn't think I think about it, but I do."

A waiter came and sat a bowl of white rice down between us. He served us each our plates. I offered Darry some of mine and he offered me some of his. We ate in silence for a while. Then he asked me:

"So, where's old Two-Bit this evening?"

I think he felt obligated to ask. If we at least discussed Two-Bit and acknowledged his existence it made it okay that we were out without him.

My answer didn't sit well with Darry though:

"I couldn't tell you," I said. "My dad's been home, so he hasn't been staying with me. I don't keep tabs on him real well."

"Why not? If I was a girl, I'd put some effort towards keeping tabs on Two-Bit."

I grinned and shook my head.

"Maybe I'd just prefer not to know."

"You prefer not to know or you figure if you don't know then he has no right to be keeping tabs on you?"

That about nailed it. I rolled my eyes at Darry. He nodded and mumbled, "uh huh," with his mouth full of food. When he swallowed it, he said:

"You know, when we were in school, I never did get why he was so hung up on you…I mean- wow," he dropped his head and laughed. "That didn't come out right. I mean, you weren't his usual type of girl."

"I know. I know his type."

"Yeah, so when he started going with you I even asked him if he was trying to get in with your brother's gang- if that's what he wanted was to raise some real hell. He just said _shit, she's cute, ain't she? Ain't that enough?_ I guess it is. Seems to be working for you."

I stopped chewing. The food in my mouth turned bitter. Darry put his fork down.

"What?"

I shook my head and tried to think it through before I said anything. Darry said _what?_ again.

"I guess…I get where Ponyboy's coming from. I don't want to be chalked up to just cute, you know? All my life people- my dad, my teachers- have been telling me I was smart, but none of them wants to see me do anything with it. They don't get why I can't be satisfied just being cute. Ducklings are cute. Ducklings get to grow up. I'm just supposed to be nothing but cute."

Darry was silent for a few moments, and then he said, "oh boy."

"What?"

"Nothing. I'd just never seen that side. Two-Bit likes that, too, you know. He said you're cute _and_ you don't take any shit. He says you're more of an adventurer than he is. Says you're braver, that he'd like to have you back him in a rumble."

I shook my head. "I'm too smart to rumble. Idiot guys rumble."

Darry threw up his hands, but he was laughing. "Myself included. Maybe that's why I can't keep Pony in line. Maybe I'm just too goddamned dumb."

I shrugged. Two years ago- if the opportunity to have this conversation had arisen, and it wouldn't have- I would have been tripping over myself to apologize and say, "oh no, Darry, that's not what I meant." I wasn't feeling that way tonight.

When the bill came, Darry reached for his wallet and I reached for my purse. I told him I had my own money. He told me he wasn't that liberated yet.

"I'll get dinner," he said. "Buy me some ice cream. It's only a little after seven. Soda'll skin me if I go home before eight."

* * *

Ice cream was harder to come by than one might think in downtown Tulsa in November. Most of Tulsa's ice cream was sold by seasonal stands, most of them on the Ribbon, and most of them were closed this time of year.

Darry and I drove around until almost eight.

"I should get you home. I should get home. How about a rain check?" He said.

"Maybe you should just call and say you're going to be late. Model that behavior for Ponyboy."

"I like that," he said. "Should I tell them I'm cruising the Ribbon with Two-Bit's girl?"

I made a face and shrugged.

"I guess it's none of their business what I'm doing," he said to himself and pulled over when he saw a phone booth.

He made his phone call and came back to the truck grinning and shaking his head.

"What'd you tell them?"

"That I was cruising the Ribbon with someone else's girlfriend. They didn't believe me. In my absence, it seems Ponyboy has decided to unleash the fury of his flakiness on Soda. They're fighting over the TV like little kids. Soda says I have a half an hour."

"And, you said?"

"I told him if I had to come back there…well, they know. Anyway, there's an A&W. Root beer floats on the horizon."

We pulled in to the A&W parking lot. The dining area looked packed, and I recognized about half the faces through the fogged up glass. I offered to run in and get the floats and bring them back to the car. That sat just fine with Darry.

I made my way inside the restaurant and got in line. A few people said 'hi'. A couple asked what was up with Two-Bit. I told them it was Two-Bit's night off. As I was digging in my purse, someone elbowed me in the back. I cursed under my breath and turned to tell them to watch themselves. I look up to see Deputy Ayers.

He was looking past me at the menu on the wall.

"Having a lovely evening?" He asked me.

"I was."

"I've said it before- you do not have a talent for lying low, do you?"

"I'm staying out of the bars. That guy I'm with is about the most benign individual that I know."

"I know who he is," Ayers said. He was smiling.

"You know who he is? Why do you know who Darry Curtis is?"

"Is that is his name? You're too easy, Kathy. Too trusting. See how I got you to do that?"

"Aren't you supposed to be babysitting Tim?"

He gave me a little push towards the counter. I stepped up and ordered. Before I finished I turned back and asked him if he wanted anything. He said he'd get his own. Then he stepped up next to me.

"In fact, let's just put this all on the Marshall's tab," Ayers told the waitress and ordered himself a Coke. He said to me, "You could learn a few things from your buddy Tim. He has managed to give me the slip."

"Bummer. You lost a wounded man in a hospital? If I was you, I'd be drinking something stronger than a Coke right now."

"I plan to. Thought I'd check in with you first. See whose company you were keeping this evening. You and Shepard seem to have a report. Seemed like a safe bet. Except that you like to keep company with all sorts of other men who aren't your boyfriend too."

I turned and looked up at Ayers. "Just because you suck at your job doesn't mean you have to go slandering me. Nothing more salacious going on here than root beer floats."

"My apologies," he said. He tossed the money down on the counter and asked for a receipt. "You still have my card, Kathy? If you see Tim or if he finds his way to you, I need you to call me. He is not out of the woods as far as Carter is concerned. You haven't seen Carter, have you?"

I shook my head and gave him a bright smile. I thought about Katrina Lloyd's Trix Bunny necklace hidden in my room and my smile ran away. Ayers had no idea how right he was- none of us was out of the woods yet.

"I got to go," I said. "Thanks for the ice cream."

"Do me a favor, will you?" He said. "Go home."

I nodded. I went back out to the truck and got in next to Darry. He told me thank you, then stopped and looked me over.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing. The place was just packed. Just got jostled around."

"Don't lie," he said. I frowned and looked over at him. He shook his head. "So far as I've seen, that's about the only thing that ain't becoming on you."


	5. Chapter 5

SE Hinton owns The Outsiders.

**Katie Cruel- Five**

I didn't know if Agent Ayers was someone I was supposed to talk about. I told Darry that I'd just run into someone I didn't like inside the A&W. He asked me who, and I told him someone I knew through my brother. That seemed to satisfy him, but he still looked concerned.

"What happened to all those guys? They still hang around and keep an eye on you? I guess Adrian doesn't."

I shook my head. "Boone was the only one I ever saw. He and Calvin were pretty close. The rest of them sort of drifted away when Cal went in. I think a few of them were in with him."

Darry kept questioning me about my brother's friends. It surprised me he knew all of their names. Their gang territories butted up against one another, but they didn't all go to the same high school. Hell, most of my brother's friends never went to high school at all.

I tried to give Darry answers without really furthering the conversation. Talking about it just made me tired. When we got to my house, I let myself out of the truck before he could make a move to open the door. I thanked him for dinner and hurried away from his truck. So much for making high school girl dreams come true.

It was a relief to walk to a quiet house. My father slept like the dead; he didn't even snore. I kicked off my shoes at the door without fear of waking him up.

A creak in the hall in front of me made me stop. I bent down to pick up one of my shoes- the only thing I could think of to throw if I had to.

"It's just me, Reilly."

Tim stepped out of the shadows. Even lit only by the light from the street, I could see he was pale and sweating.

"You wouldn't hit a wounded man with a shoe, would you, girl?" He asked. He raised his hands above his head, but he winced when he did it. He took another step towards me, and I could see it pained him.

"What are you doing?" I whispered. "Your buddy the Marshal is looking all over for you."

"Hell of a job he's doing then, huh? I couldn't stay in there. It was making me nuts. You got anything to drink?"

I nodded and brushed past him. He caught me by the arm and pulled me back. The ease with which he turned and wrapped me in his arms made me think he was part-way faking the limp. He didn't kiss like I would have expected him to. I would have taken Tim for the kind of guy to just plant one on me and just hold me there until I either submitted or passed out. Instead, he gave me a tentative kiss on my bottom lip, drew back and searched my eyes for second, and then did it again. I let him do it and then again, harder, and then I asked him:

"What are you on? Codeine? Morphine?"

He grinned and shook his head.

"Ain't on anything anymore. It's wore off. Seriously, I need a drink."

He didn't let go of me immediately, and I didn't struggle to get away. We just stood there looking at each other, frozen and confused. He leaned in to kiss me again and I pulled back.

"My dad's got a bottle of Scotch."

"That'll do," Tim said and released me. He followed me towards the kitchen.

I pulled a chair away from the table and climbed up to get the Scotch down from the cupboard above the sink. Tim sat down at the table.

"Don't get comfortable," I told him. "We're going in my room…"

"Keep talkin'."

"No, Tim. We're going in my room to drink, just in case my dad wakes up. Do you know where Janine and Rosie are?"

He shook his head. "No. Do you know where Curly is?"

"Not at the moment."

I climbed down and picked up a couple of glasses from the drainer. I put the chair back and held my hand out to him. He took it and stood up with some trouble. We went to my room and I shut the door. I motioned to the bed.

"Go ahead. I'll sleep on the couch."

"Like hell. We're adults. Tell me all this shit doesn't give you the creeps and you don't want someone to sleep with."

He was right. I could have handled some cuddling right about then. Knowing that Trix Bunny necklace would be wrapped up and tucked under the mattress beneath us sort of turned me off to it though.

Tim sat down on the bed and then laid back. He bunched up my pillow and stuffed behind him against the headboard. I sat down on the floor facing him. He rolled his eyes.

I asked him: "You know what my brother says about Janine and her baby?"

He shrugged and looked down at the Scotch bottle.

"Did you know the other girl?"

"Not quite as well as I know Janine," he said with a bitter kind of smirk. "Katrina? Yeah, she wasn't really my type. I knew her better when we were little kids, when we were all little guys."

"Did Carter kill her?"

Tim smiled at that. He shook his head.

"Where is she then?"

"That, I don't know. According to Jeannie, Katrina got away. She took off when they got to Fayetteville. Carter's sort of held it over Jeannie's head ever since. At first, he'd threaten her that if Katrina didn't come back, he'd do her in. When Katrina didn't come back, he gave up on that. Just started telling Jeannie that he wouldn't let it happen twice. But- yeah- Katrina's alive as far as I know."

"Did you tell the Marshall that?"

Tim shook his head. "Ain't telling him shit. Katrina's parents had her declared head. If it turns out she's alive and well in Arkansas…"

I smiled up at Tim and nodded.

"Then the Marshals might lose interest in Carter."

"It keeps some heat on him," Tim said. He took a hit off the Scotch and stretched. "You really ain't coming up here?"

I beckoned for him to hand me over the bottle. He gave it to me, making a face.

"What? You got to have a drink before you crawl in to bed with me?"

"It's celebratory," I said. "I'm glad she's alive, and I think I have something that might help you."

I motioned for him to shove over, which he did with some grunting and cursing. I pushed the edge of the mattress up and pulled out my brother's wadded up t-shirt. I unrolled it and held the Trix Bunny up for Tim to see.

"Recognize it?"

"Anywhere. Where'd you get it?"

"Cal had it," I told him. "He sent me a letter before…It's been in his room since he cleaned out Carter's car. I guess Cal thought she was dead, too."

"What are you going to do with it?"

I shrugged. I rolled the necklace back up and stuffed it under the mattress. I crawled into the space Tim had made on the bed and handed the bottle back to him.

"I'll use it when the time comes, I guess," I told him.

"Damn, Reilly, you devious little minx," Tim said. He tried to roll on his side, but it was uncomfortable. He lay on his back instead and sought out my hand with his. He took my hand and kissed it, and then fell asleep like that with his shoulder pressed against mine.

I figured he was a little drunk. He was usually a little drunk- why should tonight be an exception? It was the first inkling I had, though, that something could scare Tim. He got that Carter was the bigger fish, and Tim had no inclination to try and overpower him. Tim and Janine-all of them- had been content to be the underlings. The only one who wasn't afraid was Calvin, and he'd paid for it.

Seeing Tim scared made me feel strangely more powerful. I was Calvin's sister. We were cut from the same cloth and I wasn't going to be afraid either, I decided. If something happened to me, Tim knew about the necklace. He'd know where to point the finger.

* * *

The alarm went off at eight. Tim groaned and shrunk away against the wall. I slipped my hand out from his grip and got up.

"Where you going?" he mumbled.

"I work."

"Oh, yeah," he said, and then, "be careful."

I stood for a second and scowled at him. Was that a general "be careful" or had Curly told? Tim said he hadn't seen Curly, but Tim had a way of playing me. I watched him until I was sure he was asleep again and then I slid my hand under the mattress and took Katrina's Lloyd's necklace. I slipped it over my head and found a sweater with a high enough neckline to cover it up.

* * *

Two-Bit sitting on my front porch about scared me out of my skin. He was stretched out on the porch swing like maybe he'd spent the night there.

"Morning, Glory," he said.

"Holy shit, you scared me."

He cocked his eyebrow and sat up.

"Where you off to on this lovely morning?"

"Work," I told him, and then regretted it.

"Don't like the sound of that," he said. "Where do you work?"

I took a nervous glance back at the house and then pulled Two-Bit up by the hand.

"Come on. My dad's still here. The lady across the street is monitoring all of your comings and goings, you know."

He grinned. "That so? Next time I sleep on your porch, I'll strip down to my skivvies."

I tugged at him and he followed me down the walk. We'd almost made it to the street when I heard the front door of the house squeak open behind us. I exhaled a quick, silent prayer that it was my dad, but I knew without turning around that I wasn't that lucky.

"Hey, Kathy." Even his calling me Kathy instead of Reilly was calculated. That son of a bitch was making a statement- acknowledging that he knew I was a girl. He couldn't hope to suppress that cocky little smile as he leaned against the doorframe.

"You think I didn't check?" He called. "Under the mattress? You ain't going to do anything stupid, are you, girl? Oh, speak of the devil…'morning, Mathews."

Two-Bit gave my hand an involuntary squeeze and then let go. I shot Tim a look and then turned to Two-Bit. He raised his hands and then backed away, shaking his head.

"I don't want to know," he said. "Have a nice day at work."

I turned back to Tim, who was still smiling at me from the front door.

"Goddamnit!" I screamed at him. "What are you doing?"

"What? That wasn't special to you? Last night? It sure was for me." If Two-Bit could hear him- which was doubtful as fast as he was making tracks down the street- he wouldn't have been able to miss the sarcasm and amusement in Tim's voice. Tim was beyond amused with himself.

I stormed back up the walk, but stopped at the bottom of the porch steps, just out of his reach. I pulled the Trix Bunny up from inside my sweater and made sure he could see it dangling.

"Just sit back and try to guess what I'm going to do, Shepard. I've already lost Cal. I don't give a damn what happens to the rest of them and I don't give a damn about you."

His face changed. His brow furrowed and he got serious fast.

"Come on, baby, I was just fooling around. You want Mathews back? I'll get him back for you. I just wanted to see the look on his face, but…shit…Baby, listen to me…"

He took a step forward and I took a step back. Without a car, I had no quick means of escape. I did, however, have Tim's injury working in my favor. I started walked towards the street again, knowing he wouldn't be able to catch up.

"Get the hell out, Shepard," I shouted back at him. "I'm calling the Marshal when I get to work. He'll be coming for you."

I put about half a block between us before I turned around and looked back. Tim was still on my porch. He was sitting down on the top step with his head down running his fingers through his hair. He might have been worried or he might have been overcome with laughter over himself. I couldn't tell.


	6. Chapter 6

SE Hinton owns The Outsiders.

**Katie Cruel- Six**

It seemed, no matter what my intentions, I was a liar all around. I did still care about one of them, and I was relieved to see him sitting on the curb in front of Buck's.

"Where'd you sleep?" I asked Curly.

"My ma's. I crawled in the window after they went to bed."

"You eat?"

He shook his head. He stood up- again, I was sure he'd grown overnight- and brushed off his jeans. He stopped and looked me over.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," I said and shrugged.

"Bullshit."

"Do you want to eat or not? Your brother is what's wrong."

"Can't argue with you there. What'd he do?"

I looked up at Curly. There was genuine concern in his big, puppy-dog eyes, and I couldn't stand to tell him that I'd spent the night with and then been played by his drunk-assed, lying brother. I told him:

"He took off from the hospital. Now that stupid Marshal is creeping around looking for him. He thinks I'll know where he is."

Curly smirked. "But you don't? Yeah, I don't believe you either."

I hurried him across the street and bought us a couple of rolls and a cup of coffee. He hadn't seen Buck go in or out of the bar yet. Curly sat back down on the curb and I joined him. When he finished our food and there was still no sign of Buck, I asked Curly if he'd tried the door.

He shook his head.

"I wasn't going in without you. He ran me off with a .410 once."

I didn't like the idea of anyone pointing a shotgun in a kid's face. Buck has his assets to protect, to be sure, but it didn't seem right for him to get violent with Curly. I stood up and went to try the door, ready to give Buck a piece of my mind. A part of me was just itching to give anyone a piece of my mind right then. Another part of me was convinced the door would be locked and I wouldn't have to follow through.

The door opened, however, and I was greeted by a smell like a space heater burning dust. Curly cursed in my ear- he was right behind me. He whispered for me not to go in, but I did it anyway and he followed.

Before my eyes even adjusted to the light, I heard a click. I would've walked into the gun in Carter Burr's hand if Curly hadn't grabbed my arm.

"Kathy Reilly," Carter said. "Calvin's little sister."

He took shape in front of me. I focused on the gun first.

"You holdin', little sister?" He asked.

I asked him, "holding what?" and someone snickered in the shadows.

Carter grinned at me. He replaced the hammer on his gun and withdrew it. I could see him well now and the bar around him. Tables were overturned. There were holes from shotgun blasts in the bar and the ceiling. The burning smell was from the recently spent rounds.

"Where's Buck?" I asked.

"Right here," he grumbled. Two of Carter's boys had him at gun point against the bar. The first aid kit was open on the floor in front of him, empty. Carter caught me looking at it.

"Yeah, that," he said. "You know anything about that? Plenty of cash, but no bet book and that's what I'd really been hoping to find. There's a couple of names in there…absconders, you might say…who still owe me. I'd like to pay them a visit, clean up my books, but it seems to be missing. Know anything about that, Calvin's little sister?"

"Why would I know anything about that?"

"Why are you here at 9:30 in the morning?"

He had me there. Buck's bet book was in my purse. I took a step away from Carter and backed into Curly. I elbowed him in the stomach, hoping he'd take the hint.

"No way, Reilly," he whispered.

"Do it," I said.

Calvin shook his head and raised the gun again.

"Go, Curly," I said. I took a step forward again and swung my purse at Carter. The gun went off and the room was flooded with light from the opened door. I don't know why I didn't run with Curly. Maybe I wouldn't have been quick enough if I'd tried. Carter was fast. While my head was still spinning from the change in light, he grabbed at me. His fingers dug into my hair on the back of my head. He spun me around and pulled me to him. Just that fast, I could feel the cold barrel of the gun against my chin.

"Son of a bitch," he said. He was laughing. "You're just as goddamned dumb as your brother. Len- go grab that little fucker and bring him back."

One of Carter's boys who had been guarding Buck slipped past us and out the door. This time, I had the sense to close my eyes. I could still see in the dim room when I opened them again.

Still holding me by my hair, Carter spun me around again and shoved me on the floor in front of him. He pulled a chair and sat down in it before me. He bounced the gun against his knee at he spoke:

"So, this is how it's going to go down. Out of respect for the memory of your dear brother, Miss Reilly, I'm going to take you on a little ride myself instead of sending you with Bryant here. Christ only knows what kind of hijinks he and you would get up to. Me- in spite what you may have heard, I prefer not to have to force myself on girls. I like it when they're at least halfway along for the ride. So, I can only hope that you'll come to like me maybe just a little while we're riding along. Bryant—"

"Yeah." Bryant was leaning against the bar next to Buck. He raised his eyebrows at Carter.

"Help yourself to a drink. Stay here and babysit this fucker until Miss Reilly and I get back. If that little Shepard punk comes back, shoot him. Hell, if Lenny brings him back, shoot him anyway. Those Shepards never cease to be a pain in my ass."

In one motion, he stood up and pulled me up by the arm. I snuck a look at Buck as Carter pulled me towards across the room. Buck made no indication that I should save us both and just give up the bet book. Maybe he knew that wouldn't do any good. Carter was on a roll now. Giving him what he'd come for was no longer going to appease him.

"Shit, Kathy," was all Buck said. His voice was pleading, but I couldn't tell with whom. Carter had me behind and the bar and reeling towards the alley door before Buck could say anything else.

Carter pushed me out into the alley. His car- I assumed it was his- was waiting there. He shoved me against the passenger door.

"Is there anything you want to tell me?" He asked me.

"Like what?"

"What? No pleading? No deal-making?"

"I was kind of pissed at Buck already," I said.

Carter smirked. "You gonna ride shotgun and behave yourself, or do I have to put you in the trunk? It's a little cold for a ride in the trunk."

"How am I going to tell you where to go from the trunk?"

"Smart ass," he said. "Try and run or try and jump, and I will run your pretty ass over. Got it?"

I nodded. He reached around me, opened the passenger door, and pushed me down into the seat. He shut the door and then walked around to the driver's side. He moved quickly because he was big, not because he was in any kind of hurry. He seemed to know that I wasn't going to make a run for it.

Carter started the car and the heat and the radio kicked on full-blast. He fiddled with the heater, turned it down a notch, saying to me:

"Fuckin' cold one this morning, ain't it?"

He didn't wait for a reply. He popped the lighter in, and then moved on to the radio. He clicked through the stations- The Beatles…Gene Autry…Cal Smith, and that amused him.

He said, "Hey, it's Cal," to me and left it there. He put the car in reverse and back it out of the alley. I scanned the street for signs or Curly and/or Len, but I didn't see them. I wasn't as worried about Curly as Carter was confident of him being caught. Curly could disappear in the midst of the downtown buildings and hide from cops and truant officers for days. He even seemed to be staying off of Marshall Ayers' radar. I wondered where and to whom Curly thought he was running.

Carter lit his cigarette and then let his hand drop and patted my thigh.

"So, where we going, doll?" He asked.

"You tell me. Who're you looking for?"

"Well, since you put it that way…now that I have you I don't really need the bet book. I'll let you choose. Take me to any of them, preferably the ones you think can pay, and I'll knock 'em over. Along the way, we can talk about the world of shit your brother has me in."

"You? You're the one who had him killed. I'd say you're still on the winning end of whatever deal it was you had."

Carter rolled his eyes. He changed the radio station again. It was a compulsive habit. There was never a song on that he liked.

"I did no such thing, little sister," he said, leaving the radio- for the moment- on The Supremes. "I can't say I liked your brother much, but he did good work. He saved my ass a time or two. I'm sure I'm not the only one to fall under suspicion. 'Sides, I heard he offed himself."

"You believe that?"

"You've never been in the joint, doll. It can be a lonely place, especially for a guy like Cal. He didn't make friends easy."

I exhaled and stared out the window. We were out of Devilhawk territory and heading north towards Tim and Curly's turf. I could see the spire from Sacred Heart towering over the houses ahead. Carter drove on in silence in the direction of the church. I wondered if he was using some shortcut through neighborhood, and it surprised me when he drove right up to the church itself and parked the car.

"Get out," he said. "Talk a walk with me."

"What? Here?"

He didn't answer me right away. He got out of the car on his side and then came around to mine and opened my door. Instead of wrenching me from my seat like I expected, he stood there waiting like we were headed to the prom. I looked up at him wide-eyed and got out of the car.

Again, in the most gentlemanly fashion, he hooked his arm in mine. When he spoke, though, there was nothing polite about it. There was a bite to his voice- it was quiet, but sinister:

"You're chapping my ass, little sister. I feel like, if we're going to make the most of this transaction, I need to make a point before we continue. Straight ahead there, through the gate…"

I looked up at him and then ahead. He was nodding towards the gate to the church cemetery. It had blown open in the wind the night before and was creaking on its hinges. I walked through with Carter right behind me. He nudged my back to turn me left and then forward down a long line of graves. The one he was looking for was near the end of the row and marked with only a small metal plaque. It was Katrina Lloyd's.

"Shit," I whispered.

"So, you know the name," Carter said. "In case you don't know the rest of the story, let me enlighten you: there ain't nobody buried there. I don't know where the fuck that girl's got off to, but everyone hangs it on me just the same. All's I'm saying is I got nothing to lose here, little sister. I got nothing to lose and I got an empty hole here in the ground that's aching to be filled if you want to fuck with me. Is my point made?"

I nodded. Carter nodded back. He took my arm again and walked me back through the cemetery. He pushed me ahead of him back through the gate and then stopped short of running into me when I didn't go any further.

The sight on the curb confused me. It was as if I had walked through the gate into one cemetery and then walked out from another. In the first, Carter's car was waiting for us idling at the bottom of the church steps.

Here, however, there was no car. Carter's car was gone.


	7. Chapter 7

SE Hinton owns The Outsiders and the Shepards.

**Katie Cruel- Seven**

"Son of a bitch Shepards!" Carter spit on the ground. "What kind of neighborhood is this? Who steals a car from in front of a church?"

I would have laughed, but I was too caught up looking around for a place I could run to. The church itself seemed like the most logical choice. If the priest was there he would protect me, I thought. Even Carter wouldn't shoot a priest. Probably.

I peeked up at Carter. He was still looking around and cursing. When I took another step away from the cemetery gate, he muttered, "don't even think about it."

I heard the now-familiar click again and this time felt the cold metal at the back of my neck.

"If this is how shit gets done in this neighborhood…" Carter mumbled. He grabbed my shoulder with his free hand and moved me further out away from the gate. He raised his voice: "Is this the way you want to do things, Shepard? You think I won't play along?"

"How do you even know it was Tim?" I said in a soft voice.

"His turf, his little brother that run off, his girl…"

"I ain't his girl. He doesn't have a girl. He has…girls…"

"Spoken like a jealous woman...me-ow. Whatever he is, he's a bleeding-heart. I know that. He'll come out of his hidey hole for you," Carter grumbled.

And then we stood there in the cold silence. No one came. The wind creaked in the cemetery gate. A bus pulled up down the block and then pulled away. Carter's car failed to reappear.

Carter said, "Well, this is shit."

"The bet book's in the car," I told him, just to twist the knife. "It was in my purse."

He let go of my shoulder. He walked around to stand beside me, keeping the gun trained on me from inside his sleeve. He furrowed his brow at me.

"You are a strange one, little sister. Your brother was dumb as fuck, but you are just plain weird."

"I don't know what I'm doing," I told him. Maybe I meant it for the church. I came out like a confession. "I'm not a criminal."

"What're you implying?" Carter said. He winked at me and then took another look down the street. "Ah, this looks promising…"

I peered down the street in the direction of his gaze. I recognized the figure coming towards us, but I couldn't remember his name. I'd seen him in Bucks, seen him with Tim, maybe even seen him occasionally set foot in our high school. He was dark-haired and lanky- another carbon copy of Tim Shepard and the rest of his gang. He wore their standard issue uniform: black leather jacket, jeans, and work boots.

"Who the fuck are you?" Carter yelled at him.

The hood stopped at the bottom of the church steps.

"Man, watch your goddamned mouth. My ma goes to this church."

"He's got a gun," I said.

"Yeah, no shit," the hood answered, "and I got his car."

Just then, the church bells struck ten o'clock. Standing so close beneath the tower, the noise was deafening and it seemed to go on forever. It dazed me some, and must've had the same effect on Carter. Neither of us noticed the church doors open and shut behind us. When the tolling stopped and I saw the priest standing there, I jumped and had to bite my cheek to stifle a curse.

"Good morning," the priest said to me, and then to Carter, "Good morning, son. Is there something I can help you with?"

"Maybe they're wanting you to marry them, Father," the hood from Tim's gang called up from the bottom of the church steps.

The priest looked down at him and raised an eyebrow. There was a hint of mischief in his face. It reminded me of Two-Bit. He said:

"And good morning to you, Julian. I haven't seen you in a while."

The hood smiled. "That's 'cause I ain't done anything I needed to confess. Keeping myself out of trouble real good."

"Lying is a sin, Julian. I think you just earned yourself a trip back up these stairs."

"Tell him stealing's a sin, too," Carter said.

"Has he stolen something?" The priest asked. He sounded tired, like he had this discussion regarding Julian a lot. "Julian, your friend here says you've stolen something. Is that true?"

Julian looked this way and that, grinning. He climbed up one step closer to us.

"Truth told, Father, he's got me there. I ain't stolen anything yet, but I came here with the intention of stealing his girl."

I felt Carter's grip on my arm tighten, but in the presence of the priest I felt brave enough to jerk away. My movement wasn't lost on the priest. He frowned at Carter- who slipped the gun into his pocket- and then looked at me.

"And what about you, miss- are you willingly going with Julian or is he going to have to steal you away?"

I gave him a half-smile. "I'll go with him."

The priest nodded. "Well, then it isn't really stealing, is it? Julian, I think you've slipped the noose once again. You can come back later and tell me about all the lies you've told, although I suspect that will be mostly lies, too."

"It's a compulsion, Father," Julian said. He beckoned me with his fingers. I walked down the steps towards him. When my body was blocking the priest's view, he flipped Carter the bird. He leaned in to me and said softly, "down the block that way and turn right. They keys are in it. I'm right behind you. You can drive, yeah?"

I nodded and continued down the steps in the direction he'd told me. I didn't look back. I could hear Julian's footsteps on the pavement. He stayed about a half a block back watching Carter on the church steps with the priest until we got to the corner. Then he ran to catch up with me at the car.

Carter's car was uncomfortably warm and the radio was blaring Otis Redding. Julian slid in beside me on the passenger side. He sang along with the "hey, hey, hey, hey" and then changed the station anyway. I put it in drive and gunned it down the street.

"Easy, honey," he said. "He ain't going to come after us. Father Dawson's probably tugging him into confession by the ear. If he shows that peashooter he's got, Father'll have him saying Hail Marys and scrubbing floors for a week."

I looked over at him, bewildered and- I admit- thoroughly turned to mush. What is it about a guy who says he's come to steal you away from another guy? And on the steps of a church?

It was coming back to me now, those brief sightings in high school: Julian Rice. He was never in school very long because he went back and forth between Will Rogers and Sacred Heart avoiding punishment for his indiscretions at both. There were a hundred kids in his family, and they all had their mother's name. None of them looked quite alike. They were rumored to each have a different father. Some of them didn't even speak to or appear to know one another at school.

Julian came from the dark, curly-haired and tall faction of the clan. His ethnic origins were a mystery- he could've been Italian or Osage or an unusually tall Greek. The rumor mill at school said his mother was a Gypsy. I was pretty sure we didn't have real Gypsies in Tulsa, but I might have been able to believe it just then sitting next to Julian Rice in Carter Burr's stolen car. The way Julian and his priest had charmed me into safety was nothing short of voodoo.

I shook myself back to earth and thought to ask, "where's Curly?"

"Back home getting his ass whipped, I'd suppose. Timmy sent him home and told him to stay there."

"Is Buck alright?"

"Tim's seeing to that. You want to find out?"

At that moment, no, I really didn't. I was happy to be driving around in a warm car with beautiful Julian Rice listening to a song by The Animals become a song by Johnny Cash.

"I got to stop at home first," Julian said. "What's your name- Kathy? Turn left up here. I was supposed to take kids to school…shit, they're late. That old womn's going to eat me alive. Keep the engine running."

He pointed out a house that didn't look nearly big enough to hold as many brothers and sisters as he was supposed to have. The porch was drooping. It wouldn't see out the winter, I figured. Several of the screens were torn and blowing in the wind. When I parked the car, Julian leaned across me and pressed on the horn. A cat evacuated the porch through a hole in the screen window and the door next to it flew open. Three children- two girls and a boy- flew out. They were dressed for cold weather, but their red cheeks and noses said they'd been sitting on the porch for a while.

They piled into the backseat of the car. The girls were olive complected with curly hair like Julian. The little boy had red hair.

"This your car, Jules?" The boy asked.

"Who else's would it be?" Julian looked dumbfounded that his brother would even ask.

The older of the girls asked, "Who's she?"

"She's Kathy. Who the hell are you?"

The girl chastised him, "Don't cuss, Julian."

I never did get her name. Julian slid himself down in the front seat and propped his knees against the dashboard. He waved his hand lazily and said, "Onward and upward. Which damned school again?"

"McArthur!" The crowd in the back shouted in unison. Julian shrugged and mumbled something about _she took 'em out of Sacred Heart again…_I put the car back in gear and drove Julian Rice's sisters and brother to McArthur Elementary School.


	8. Chapter 8

SE Hinton owns The Outsiders and Buck's.

**Katie Cruel- Eight**

Within a few blocks of Buck's, Julian straightened up again and opened the glove compartment.

"Predictable motherfucker," he mumbled. He pulled a small .45 out from under a pile of papers. With a jerk of his wrist, he opened the chamber, checked it and then flipped it shut again. He said aloud to me, "We got to dump this car. It ain't Carter's. I don't know whose it is. Park it on the street up here and then we'll walk."

I parked the car. Julian stuffed the gun in the waist of his jeans. I took my purse and checked it before we left the car. The bet book was still inside. I left the keys in the front seat.

We walked together in silence the couple of blocks back towards Buck's. When we got to the diner across the street, Julian nodded towards the door.

"You go in there and wait for me," he said.

"No. What are you protecting me from? It's just as much my business as yours."

I didn't want to go inside Buck's. I didn't want to know what was waiting for us in there, but I didn't want to be left alone either, and I didn't want to be watching from across the street when Julian opened the door and got himself gunned down.

Julian pressed his lips together to avoid smiling.

"Shit, Tim's right about you," he said and then didn't elaborate.

He started across the street without further argument and I followed. When we reached the door of Buck's tavern, he took the gun out of his belt and knocked on the door with it. Then he opened it a crack and stuck his head inside.

No shots rang out. A voice spoke to him and Julian replied. I couldn't hear what was being said, but I could tell he was laughing.

"What?" I said and kicked at the back of his shoe.

"You're fired," He told me. "What was it you were doing? Runnin' numbers? You're fired from that. Come on."

He opened the door all the way and let me walk in ahead of him.

Buck's voice greeted me from within: "You're fired, Reilly. Did Rice tell you? I want the chance to tell you myself. You, Shepard, the little one, all of you dumb hoods. You're all fired."

"Gee, thanks." That was Tim's voice. He was sitting on a table with his back against a wall. His perch allowed him to stretch his leg out. He was smirking at me. He had a beer in his hand.

"When you said you had a job, Reilly, you failed to mention it was working for this bastard."

"You didn't ask," I told him.

"I was infirmed," Tim said. "You should've told me."

"I'm not one of your underlings, and I'm not your girl," I snapped. "I don't have to check my every move with you. I don't have to tell you shit."

I heard Julian say, "whoa," as he stepped in behind me. He made his way across the room, behind the bar and found himself a glass.

"It's a little early, Rice," Buck said to him.

"For water?" Julian said. "'Cause I was getting a glass of water. Cheap bastard."

Julian disappeared into the back room. I took a look around. No one of them- and it seemed that most of the Shepard gang was there- had made any attempt to clean up. Curly was there, standing against the wall a safe distance from Tim. I shot him a weak smile. He shrugged.

"How long did you think you'd be able to keep this up, Reilly?" Tim asked. "You really think you and Curly'd be able to handle it and keep me in the dark?"

"I didn't bring Carter down on us," I said more to Buck than to Tim.

"You're still fired," Buck answered. "All of you. Idiot kids."

Tim grinned down at his beer.

"You alright, then, Reilly?"

"I've been better. How'd you know…?"

"Like I said, he's predictable." Julian had returned from the back room. "And so is that priest."

"And Rice here is such a good Catholic boy," Tim added.

"Altar boy, the whole nine yards." Julian said. "Father comes out every day at ten to sweep them steps. I don't know why he ain't gone deaf from them bells."

I looked back to Tim. I hated to ask: "So, now what?"

"You're all fired," Buck reminded us. I took the bet book out of my purse and gave it to him. He snatched it away, but mumbled "thanks" and I think he meant it.

"So, now what- what?" Tim said. "Sit down and have a drink. Let the day begin. Give it an hour and Carter'll have his whole army in here shooting the place up again. Ain't any use in running from it. Let it come down."

I frowned at Tim. He'd just quoted MacBeth, and his grin told me he knew it.

I asked him, "So we're all just going to sit here and wait to get shot?"

"Well, we're going to shoot back. Rice, you carryin'?"

Julian nodded. "Just five shots, though. Am I still fired, Merril?"

Buck said, "All of you," again, and Julian grinned. He handed me the glass of water. I took it and crossed the room to talk to Tim.

"We could call the Marshal," I reminded him.

"Yes, let's do that. Let's call in the federales to an illegal juke joint. What the fuck are you thinking? You think he's going to be so happy to see you- and me- alive that he's going to forgive all of this?"

Tim waved his hand around at Buck's ravaged bar. I shook my head at him.

"He wants the goods on Carter. I know you hate admitting it, but you're small time. I'm microscopic, but I still have this…" I pulled the Trix Bunny up from inside my sweater. "They're not like the local police, Tim. The feds just want the big fish. Cal used to talk about them. Trials cost money. They aren't going to waste their time on the likes of us. We give him Carter, and- yeah- most likely all will be forgiven."

Tim shook his head. He took sip of his beer and then he said to me:

"Too risky. There's still likely to be shots fired. You and Curly get out of here. Give me that necklace, take my brother home, and go make nice with Two-Bit."

"No way. I'm not giving you the necklace. I don't trust you."

He inhaled harshly and looked at the ceiling.

"Then don't trust me," he said. "Just have some goddamned sense. I'll even let you make the phone call. Give me the necklace, tell Deputy Dawg that I have it, and get the hell out. You and I both know what really happened with Adrian. You ain't any kind of killer, Reilly. You ain't like them."

The way he called Carter Burr's gang "them" told me that Tim wasn't any kind of killer either. I snuck a look across the room at Julian. He was behind the bar, drinking his water, and joshing Buck. I could see the stolen gun from Carter's stolen car on the bar in front of him. He caught me looking and winked. He didn't look like any kind of killer either.

"See something you like?" Tim asked.

I looked back at him and rolled me eyes. The grin he gave me in return said that Tim was completely cool with it; I was never a serious option for him, so why not?

"Go for it, Reilly," he said. "Scratch that part about going to make nice with Two-Bit. For now, just take Curly and go. I'll set you up. If we all live through this, I'll make that happen."

"I don't need your help." I had to say it. I knew he'd go and do what he wanted anyway. I pushed myself up off the wall and called to Curly, "let's go."

"Where am I going?" He said more to Tim than to me.

"School," I answered him. "We're going to get you back into school."

I know it wasn't just my edict- as I was walking away, Tim made some kind of gesture behind my back that inspired Curly to follow. I walked past Julian Rice without looking at him. Looking at him made me want to do something grand, memorable, but all that had gotten me up to this point what a whole lot of needing to be saved. I left the bar with Curly, hoping Julian would forget about me.

* * *

Curly had killed a fish.

It was the earth science teacher's fish- some tropical breed. It lived in a heated aquarium in the earth science classroom and Curly Shepard had killed it off by feeding it things it shouldn't have been eating. He told me he couldn't help himself. The dumb fish would eat anything. It became like a game between him and his lab partner, seeing what the fish would swallow. The science teacher, in his report to the principal, said Curly had sadistic tendencies.

"How much?" I asked the principal.

Eight months ago, this man had expelled me from the same school. He had no idea, in the last eight months, the kind of life I'd been leading. His world had carried on calling parents and administering punishments for dead fish and cherry bombs in toilets and spit-wads in study halls. High on the power he wielded, he'd turned me loose into a world of guns and guys sold girls for thrills. I was no longer afraid of the likes of him.

The principal frowned at me. "Excuse me?"

"How much for the fish? I'll pay for the fish. Curly ain't sadistic. He's curious. Tell your science teacher to do his job and channel that or something. Make him help out with the fish."

Behind me, from his chair, I heard Curly groan. I snapped my fingers at him to shut up.

The principal took off his glasses. He looked at me for a long time. When it was clear that I wasn't going away, he made a call to the science teacher.

It was a seven dollar fish. I paid the secretary and Curly and I left the school.

"That's bullshit," Curly said, kicking at the sidewalk.

"Yeah, it is," I said. "Is that all we're worth? Seven lousy dollars? He was going to let you disappear and never come back over a seven dollar fish."

"Well, thank God you were there to set him right," Curly sneered. He was pissed at me, for the moment. Someday, I hoped he'd get it.

We made a slow pass down Buck's block in Tim's car. I'd called Deputy Ayers from the pay phone before Curly and I went to Will Rogers. Ayers had sounded at least interested on the phone. I had expected the place to be surrounded with cop cars with lights flashing when we returned.

Instead, the street was empty and silent.

"Well, that was fast," Curly said.

"He didn't come."

"Which one? Carter or the Deputy?"

I shook my head. I didn't know. I drove around the block to see if Carter's stolen car was still there. It was. I drove past Buck's again.

"Don't be conspicuous or anything," Curly said.

"Using all the big words now…" I mumbled at him, and then felt bad about it. "If everything was alright, would Tim go home?"

"Hell, if everything turns out alright, I'd bet on Tim staying right there in the bar. You should go home. If everything's alright, I bet on him making Julian call you."

I could feel myself blushing. I tried to deflect Curly's attention by asking him:

"What if it's not alright?"

"Then no one calls anyone, and we all just keep our heads down until Timmy says it's okay."

I didn't like the sound of that at all. Still, I didn't know what else to do. I asked Curly whether he wanted to go to his mom's or come back to my house. He said neither. He wasn't keen on my dad. He wanted to go to Ponyboy Curtis', but I knew Darry would only turn him out when he got home from work. I told Curly he was going home and I took him there.

When I got back to my house, the door was locked and it was quiet. My father had left a note. He'd gone out to visit someone, and Two-Bit had called. There were no messages from anyone else.


	9. Chapter 9

SE Hinton owns it. And Karen Dalton, her too.

**Katie Cruel- Nine**

_When I first came to town, they called me the roving jewel_

_Now they've changed their tune_

_Call me Katie Cruel…_

I sat on the steps by the phone like a dummie for almost an hour. The mail came, and in it was my acceptance letter to Tulsa Tech. I had expected as much, so I didn't get too excited. I laid it out, though, on the kitchen table where my father would see it when he came home.

Thinking about my dad made me think about my mom's cousin- my uncle Andy. The bet book, with his name in it, was back at the bar. Either Carter or the Federal Marshals had it now. I hoped my promise to Tim that we were all small time- that all the Marshals wanted was the big fish- held true for the guys in the bet book too.

The phone rang as I was making myself a sandwich. I rushed back to the hall to answer it, sliding on the floor in my stocking feet. Then I hesitated. I didn't want to talk to Two-Bit, and I was afraid of who else it might be. On the fourth ring, I gave in.

"Hello?"

"So, this is my one call from jail, little Miss Criminal Mastermind." It was Tim. "I'll go ahead and tell Jules to use his call on you, too, if you want."

"What happened?" I sank down on the floor with my back against the wall, waiting for a tale.

"I don't think your agent buddy believes us about Carter. He showed up- the Deputy- and shut the whole place down. Buck's got some deal with them. Might've known he's a snitch. Every last one of the rest of us, though…downtown here at the Regency."

He didn't sound that broken up over it, and I dared to smile.

"I got Curly back in to school," I told him.

Tim cackled. "Well, you've just gone and made everyone's day a winner, haven't you? He'll be steamed that he ain't down here with the rest of us."

Someone else spoke in the background and I heard Tim turn away from the receiver and say, "yeah, what?"

"Hey, Reilly, you want to talk to Jules? Jules wants to talk to you."

And he handed the receiver over. Julian hadn't been expecting to talk to me. He had nothing to say but, "hey".

"Hey," I said. "Thanks for getting me away from Carter."

"'s alright," he mumbled. "Thanks for driving the ankle-biters to school."

And that was all we said to each other. A silence fell between, and it got uncomfortable enough for everyone that Tim finally took the phone back from Julian.

"Well, that was a stunning display of emotion," he said. "Keep your head down, Reilly. Maybe check in with the Marshal. He says he keeps an eye on you, but- shit- Rice does a better job than him."

"Who has the bet book?" I asked.

There was a pause, and then, "I dunno. I think it was still there when they hauled us…Jules, did you see what they did with the bet book?...Nah, he don't know. Just leave it, will ya? Don't go down there after it."

I told him okay, but didn't make any promises. It was grating on me now- my Uncle's name. Carter wouldn't know there was a connection between us; Andy shared my mother's maiden name. He had said, though, he'd go looking for the ones most likely to pay, and Andy was one of Buck's more cooperative customers.

I told Tim goodbye and hung up the phone. Almost immediately, it rang again. I flushed and grinned, thinking Tim had really made Julian call me back. This time, however, it was Two-Bit.

"So, about this morning," was his greeting.

I butted in: "Just so you know, nothing happened."

"Yeah, well just so you know…I made a list. I got it right here: every time I fooled around, every time I so much as winked at another girl. It's a long one, Kathy. I'm warning you, it's some salacious reading, but it ends abruptly on November fifteenth, nineteen-sixty-five."

November fifteenth was the day Tim was shot. Two-Bit had given me an earful then, but he'd stuck by me ever since. Even still, I told him:

"Start reading, then, if you're in such a sharing mood."

There was a pause, and then he said, "Jesus, Kath, you know I didn't really make a list. I just…I don't get you and him."

"There is no me and him, Two-Bit. I've been doing some stuff…I don't know…some stuff that maybe I shouldn't be because it means I keep crossing paths with Tim. That's all it is; I keep crossing paths with him."

And I stopped there. I didn't make any promises that I was done, and I didn't pour how my heart to him about how I'd been kidnapped earlier today. I didn't want to tell him anything. In the end, that's how I came to the decision that I did. I didn't want to rehash it all over again for Two-Bit.

"I don't think we should see each other anymore," I told him.

"Agreed," he said. "I sure like talking to you, but all we really do is screw around on each other. I don't know what it is you're doing, Kath, but it's too much of a circus even for me."

"I just don't think I'm cut out to be the kind of girl you want."

"I don't recall you ever asking what kind of girl I wanted. If this is your idea of finding yourself- or whatever the hippies call it, Kath- all you're gonna find's a whole world of shit."

If he only knew- I'd found it all ready. Finding my way out again was how I was going to find myself. The thought stuck me like a blow to the head. I meditated on it long enough that I forgot to answer Two-Bit. He mumbled an _okay then_ and hung up.

I took a deep breath and stood up with the intention of heading to my room where I hoped Tim had left the bottle of Scotch. I didn't make it three feet before the phone rang again. I cursed out loud, then said a silent prayer that this time is was Julian Rice. What I wouldn't give for us both to just sit in silence again like fools on our separate ends of the line.

I snatched up the receiver.

"Hey, Kit-Kat. Don't say anything, okay? Just listen to me."

I'm sure I let out an audible whimper. The voice on the other end was unmistakable. It belonged to one of only a small population who still called me Kit-Kat.

"You listening?"

"Yeah," I whispered.

"You get my letter?"

"Yeah."

"So you found the bunny rabbit, then. Okay. I need you to get out of the house. You can't stay there. Just get your purse and go. Go find Shepard…"

"He's in jail."

"Makes him easy to find, shit. Can you bail him? You got the dough? Bail Shepard and the two of you haul ass to Fayetteville. Tell him I said to get Katrina. If Carter ain't coming for you, he's going looking for her…"

I choked out, "Where are you? I thought…"

"Don't think, baby girl. Just do it. You bail Shepard and you and him get Katrina. Then you cozy up with that Marshal, alright? He'll keep you safe if he hears what Katrina's got to say…"

"Does Dad know?" I asked, but I already knew the answer. My dad knew. He wouldn't let me go with him to identify Cal's body because there was no body. After all was said and done, the only person who was telling me the truth was goddamned Carter Burr when he said he didn't have my brother killed.

"Kit-Kat," Calvin said. "Are you listening? Come on, baby, you got to do what I tell you here. Get out of the house. He's coming for you and then he'll go after Katrina. Get downtown and get Shepard."

And then he hung up. The house was so quiet. I couldn't breathe. I felt like I was going to be sick, but it came out as a sob. I just sat there for I don't know how long, on my knees on the floor, rocking myself back and forth.

Cal was alive.

Tears began to steam down my face. I sat there and watched them hit the floorboards. I couldn't wrap my brain around it. It took a moment to register the sounds from outside: the slamming of a car door, footsteps coming up the walk. I squeezed my eyes shut tight and then opened them again. My father never used the front door; he always came in the back. Carter was coming for me even sooner than Cal had anticipated.

I scrambled to grab at my shoes and my purse. I had them in hand before the footsteps hit the porch. I ran to the back of the house and out the back door in my bare feet. The gravel in the alley stung, but I kept running.

End, Part Three

Kathy and Company will return in "Your Cover's Blown"…


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